what i say here, though but prattle, is dear to the Divine; what i say anywhere (though but untutored, uninitiated; though always unacknowledged; though but simple and without learning) all i sing, that all comes like Keats’s leaves to the trees, all are dear to the Infinite
for it is seen in all steps: for it is the Great Power that plucked me away
from my mother’s breast, to be nurtured by foreigners but still, mothers;
and made no land mine but all my world; that made me meet no unsullied friend;
that never left me in continuing sorrow but by all means brought abiding calm
always; gave me employ and sent me, since I was born, in various ways to learn;
and sent me, since I was six, in various ways
to show, tell and teach
O the things I say are dear to the Great Being, for it is not i who say these
things,
it is not i who sing but it is the Sweetness, the Harmony, the Divine that
reverberates within and everywhere; it is but that Grandeur that expresses
itself, though even through me why I know not
but all speech of purity and innocence
too is always dear to the Divine
as is yours, as is mine,
as is the child’s;
for it chooses all;
for at the end is it all but one
for I is but a word
so is You so is Great Being is Grandeur
Infinite Divine is Sweetness is Harmony is Divine
© 2006 Raj Arumugam